Away From the Sun
by Poisoned Scarlet
Summary: AU! Everyone's said he's always been out-of-reach, something too far gone to retrieve. But she didn't realize he's been around the corner all along.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Soul Eater, nor the lyrics to _Brighter than the Sun_ by Colbie Caillat.

**Away From The Sun  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><em>Oh, this is how it starts, lightening strikes the heart<br>It goes off like a gun, brighter than the sun  
>Oh, we could be the stars, falling from the sky<br>Shining how we want, brighter than the sun..._

_I swear you hit me like a vision...  
>But who am I to tell fate where it's supposed to go?<em>

* * *

><p><em>Un<em>

The train is packed today.

Maka Albarn has to fight for her spot by the automatic doors of the subway. She clutches her bag to her side, pressing her foot into the floor when she feels the train decelerate. The doors chime before opening, a crowd of people exiting and more taking their place. In their haste, they nearly pull her out with them, but she stands strong and keeps a tight grip on the pole.

She woke up late today. It doesn't happen very often but when it does she's practically promised trouble like this. The train is more packed today than usual. It's probably rush hour, Maka grumbles to herself. Her eyes catch sight of a couple down into the cart and as the train comes to another stop, she watches as the boy grabs her shoulder to keep her from falling forward; her very own lifeline, preventing her from being swept away by the crowd.

It's not that she can't get one of those – boyfriends, she hasn't used that word in a while – it's that they served as more of a _distraction_ than a _benefit_. Her friends have had loads. Compared to them, she's pitiful. One or two, that's about it, since high school.

She hasn't been in high school for four years.

The train comes to another stop. This time people come in, threatening her spot by the door again. Just as the doors close, a hand strikes out to stop it. Maka looks up at black headphones hanging around a neck, hoodie flipped over a head of silver white. He manages to squeeze in, a sigh barely audible with all the noise within the train.

She knows him. His name is Soul Evans. He used to go to high school with her, that long time ago. They used to have Trigonometry together and he always asked her for a pencil because he never brought his own. And paper. Don't forget the paper. The only thing he seemed to have on his person was his headphones and his iPod. _That_ he brought faithfully, along with a jacket. It used to be a yellow letterman before he switched it for a more mature, more cool, black leather one that he wore faithfully until they graduated.

She wants to say hello but she doesn't know if she should, since it's been years since they last seen each other.

But he glances at her and does a double-take, recognition flickering through his eyes. They dart down to the textbook pressed tightly to her chest, the low pigtails that fall down her shoulders. The cream knit sweater whose sleeves fall past her wrists, the blue pleated skirt that falls a little short on her thighs.

Maybe she should have said hello, after all.

She thinks she sees a slight grin brief his face but she can't be sure: he's gone ahead and pushed deeper into the train. She realizes it's because, as the train makes another stop and people disembark, he takes a recently vacated seat and flips his headphones back on, slouching the same way she remembered him to.

She guesses some habits die hard.

She tries not to look at him – really, she does try. But it's hard, because he looks like he's hardly changed one bit. Perhaps he's a little taller, a little broader, his chin has squared off and his hair has grown longer than she remembers. But his eyes are as vivid red as she recalls them to be and his teeth are as sharp as everyone believed they were. That hasn't changed.

She wonders if she's changed.

Probably not, she agrees with herself. She no longer wears a _red_ skirt, now its blue and pleated. She's ditched the Oxford shirt for knit sweaters. She's got tons of them in different colors: cream, peach, black, gray, orange, pink. They're always pastel soft, always bigger on her than they should because one thing that hasn't changed about her is her petite size. Some have hoods, some don't. Some hang off her shoulder, some are turtle-neck. But she's taken to wearing them.

Maybe because he's influenced her, even a little bit.

He always wore jackets.

Well, she always wears sweaters.

"…_have arrived at the Hawthorn and Vine station…"_

Maka prepares to disembark, lost in a thought about his sudden reappearance as she'd heard he'd left for New York after graduation, and when she takes one step, her book falls out of her grasp. But it doesn't so much _fall_ as the lady beside her has _knocked_ _it_ _out_ of her hand. It slides across the gritty floor, getting stepped on once or twice, and when Maka struggles to reenter the train to retrieve it, the doors chime and close—nearly taking her fingers with it.

She swears and looks up and down the station desperately. She looks back through the scratched up windows and her eyes catch red but before she could really focus on them, the train departs – along with her textbook, her _homework._

"No—! Damn it!" The train disappears down the tunnel and she groans.

That cost her approximately ninety dollars.

Today was shaping out to be a very bad day.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I am pleased to announce that this was created in entirely one day (no, not the chapter, the entire story! It's short as it is, so don't be too surprised) and will have a sequel, which I am working on as I speak. The sequel will probably be finished within the next few days. If I finish it quickly enough, you're guaranteed this story will be updated in a daily fashion. But, for now, we'll keep it cool :)

_Scarlett._


	2. Chapter 2

**Away From The Sun  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><em>Deux<em>

* * *

><p>Today she wears a gray knit sweater to emphasize her dark mood, which has been rather damp and gloomy since the day she lost her textbook in that stupidly overcrowded train station. The sky is overcast today, the sun taking playful peeks between clouds. It's a good day for wearing a sweater, but not a skirt, so she matches her pleated skirt with leggings and hits the road with a heavy sigh.<p>

She should actually still be sleeping right now, but she doesn't mind waking up earlier than usual.

At least she isn't late today.

Tsubaki Nakatsukasa, possibly the only person who she still knows since she was in high school, called her late yesterday night. She said she was arriving at Shibusen U early because she needed to print out some work in the library, and she was wondering if maybe Maka could accompany her. It wasn't like there would be many people in the library at that time, and it wasn't like Tsubaki had many friends, for the record. She mainly stuck close to Maka, just like Maka stuck close to her.

Regardless, she couldn't say no to her best friend. She was just too sweet; the type to hardly ask for anything. She was the most unselfish person Maka has ever known. Maka would bet it took a lot out of her to even ask her this. That's why she agreed wholeheartedly and they arranged to meet up in front of the school at eight in the morning instead of the usual ten. So she leaves at seven in order to make it on time.

Her textbook has been forever lost in the flood of people. She contacted the train station's lost items department the instant she got a hold of the number. They hadn't found anything, nor had anyone turned in a textbook into the lost and found. This only aggravated her – who the hell would want a _textbook_? An advanced Calculus one as well? More than seventy percent of the people in that train didn't know how to solve basic algebraic equations, much less something as advanced as partial derivation?

But it's been three days and still no sign of her book, her book that was stuffed haphazardly with notes; all written rather neat, with side notes for her own usage that went as embarrassing as 'no idea how to solve – google it later' to 'professors a moron, figure it out later'. Not to mention her homework had been folded between the pages...

This time Maka finds an open seat on the train. That's probably because it's early and rush hour hasn't quite arrived yet. Her plain brown messenger bag sits on her lap, body slumped back into the seat. She didn't do this weeks homework because she has no textbook and no funds to buy another one. She wonders how she'll explain this to her professor, who probably won't give two fucks about her little issue, and then gets to thinking who can loan her their book for a little bit…

There's an ebb of people the closer she reaches her station. By the time she's nearly there, the aisle between the seats is bursting with people. She has to really shove her way through to exit, and then the strangest thing happens as she steps out and takes a breath of air.

"Maka! Hey!"

She pauses and looks over her shoulder, green colliding with red.

He only manages to call her name out once more before the doors shut. But in that split second when the train is preparing for take off, Soul manages to reach into his own bag and take out a thick textbook, holding it out for her to see.

_Her_ textbook.

He has her textbook!

"My book!" She exclaims, although the words are lost in a slosh of noise as the train picks up speed and everyone around her carries their own conversation. She can only watch helplessly as the train leaves the station – taking her book along with it for the _second_ time.

There has to be somebody out there who hates her, she thinks glumly.

But there must also be somebody out there whose watching over her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Away From The Sun  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><em>Trois<em>

* * *

><p>According to Tsubaki, Soul is still in contact with Black Star. Who is Black Star, you ask? To Maka, he's the single-most obnoxious, asinine, god-preaching, conceited idiot she has ever had the displeasure of knowing. But, to Tsubaki, he's likely the single-most amazing, strong, determined person she has ever had the pleasure of knowing - aside from Maka, she'd quickly add when she catches sight of her scowl.<p>

Tsubaki and he dated for a long while back in high school before they broke up, mainly because of Black Star's negligence. He often stood her up on dates due to forgetfulness, and he sometimes blew her off to hang out with his friends at the basketball courts. Needless to say, after watching her friend sigh sadly for the millionth time, Maka had told her it was time to either break it off or continue to suffer. It was an easy enough choice in Maka's head but when feelings tangled with logic, the outcome was almost always disastrous. And Tsubaki happened to be very in-tune with her emotions. So it isn't really a surprise it had taken Tsubaki _weeks_ to work up the courage to propose such an 'outrageous idea', as she'd insist it was.

It had taken another three weeks for Black Star to even _accept_ it.

But eventually they decided they were better off as friends.

Sometimes Tsubaki received the casual text message from him, but more often it was her gazing at a picture of them from when they were together. She says she deleted them all, along with his letters and other small gifts, but she can't lie to Maka. She still misses him, even after all these years, and Maka can only wonder how it feels to love someone that much – enough to _retain_ those feelings even years after that person has left your side.

Maka sometimes wonders if it's worth it.

But going back to the Soul issue, Tsubaki had received a text message from Black Star stating that his friend was in possession of her textbook and he'd really, _really_ like to give it back because just looking at it was making his head hurt. Maka had snatched Tsubaki's phone from her grasp and typed back her own reply, which said she'd meet him in the subway at nine o'clock. She'd received a simple okay and Maka felt a weight lift from her shoulders.

She'd get her textbook back! Maybe if she rushed, she could finish this weeks homework and turn in last weeks as well. It was a lot, but it wasn't like she had much else to do, and Maka wasn't keen on letting her grade suffer even the slightest. Her evenings usually consisted of a part-time job at a local bakery and curling up on her small couch with a book and a warm cup of milk, anyway.

So that's why she's cramped toward the back of the subway, glaring ahead because rush hour today was _eight_ _to_ _nine_. There's a shuffling of people as they shimmy their way off the train, more taking their place. Maka is now pressed against the edge of an occupied seat and the lady there is sending her vexed looks every time she bumps against her because of the turbulence.

Maka doesn't bother moving. If she can't deal with it, it's not her problem. She's tired of giving people the right of way in these things. If only her papa hadn't borrowed (Maka would say _stolen_) her car because his broke down, she wouldn't be facing this problem. She'd still have her book and she'd have done her homework and everything would have been dandy.

"_Finally_," someone says from behind her. "Here's your book."

Maka looks over her shoulder and up, realizing he was quite taller than her now. But he's got her book in his hand and her eyes light up like Christmas lights, a grin splitting her face. The delighted look seems to have stunned him because Soul hands her the book silently and arches a brow when she chirps back a thank you.

"You just saved my life! I was planning on giving up eating for a week or two to buy myself another one!" Maka laughs, clutching the book to her chest lovingly.

"How much does it cost?" He asks, shuddering at the thought of giving up such a sacred art: eating. He didn't think he'd make it even two hours.

"Around ninety dollars." She answers, simply.

"What the hell? Ninety dollars for a _book_?"

"It's a textbook."

"Same thing." He mutters. "Jeez, I always knew you were a bookworm but I didn't think you were _that_ hardcore." He grins, revealing a sharp tooth. She's not as startled as he expects her to be, as most are when they see his teeth. She just rolls her eyes at his teasing.

"I had to buy it for the class I'm taking," she sighs back. "It's not even a very good class…"

"Yeah." His grin become saucy. "Google is your best friend, huh?"

Maka flushes and chokes out: "You - you went through my _notes?_"

"I had nothing better to do." He shrugs. "Besides, they were funny. The side notes were, not the actual notes. Those gave me a headache. I have no idea how you can actually understand that crap."

"It's not that hard, Soul." She shakes her head. "Maybe if you actually paid attention during Trig, you'd know something."

"Hey, I _did_ pay attention." He defends before deflating under her look. "Alright. So maybe I fell asleep half the time – _fine_, more than half the time – but I _still_ passed the class."

"Because I let you cheat." Maka cringes, hanging her head guiltily. "I still regret that."

"What? Why? That was the best day of my life – I actually passed math with a decent grade. My parents didn't believe it until my report card came in." He grins wider, revealing two rows of sharp teeth this time. It makes him look like he's back in high school again, grinning so wide. It makes her feel a little nostalgic, her heart picking up like it did back then.

"But you practically _copied_ off me! How are you supposed to learn if you don't try it yourself?" Maka says, exasperated. She vaguely hears the conductor say the Hawthorn and Vine station follows. "Maybe I shouldn't have helped you out…you should've failed and retaken the class so at least you'd _know_ something!"

"Well, too late for that, right?" He airily blows off, causing her to slit her eyes. "Besides, I _did_ learn something. I passed the placement test and the audition, so I'm not complaining."

"Oh, for which college?" Maka asks, intrigued.

"Juilliard," he yawns. "Got accepted pretty quick." He scowls at that, as if that's a bad thing.

Maka stares. "… You _actually_ got accepted to that university? I heard there was only a five percent acceptance rate!"

"Yeah, well, I got accepted." He frowns at her disbelief but drops it soon after, cracking his neck and adding: "I wasn't planning on going when I got my acceptance letter. Didn't wanna' move all the way over there..."

"But you still went, right?" Maka asks, hopeful.

"Duh, a little hard with my parents breathing down my neck about it. Got my Master's in Music and A.D. in jazz studies so my parents could quit bugging me about it..." He mutters, irked at the thought of his parents. Wes, his older brother, had been the real motivation behind him not dropping out of such a prestigious school in the first place.

"Well, that's great, Soul." Maka smiles, kindly. She watches his eyes lose their edge, if just the slightest bit."I only heard you play once but it was probably the best piece of music I've heard in a long time." She says. She doesn't listen to music that much. Only what's on the radio and only what Tsubaki recommends her, which is usually too cheerful and bubbly for her tastes.

He looks stunned, perhaps a little apprehensive. "…You've heard me play before? When?"

Maka cocks her head. "The music room during lunch. I was going to take a test because I was absent that day and I heard someone playing the piano."

His eyes widen with realization. "_You _were the chick who eavesdropped on me that day!"

"I did _not_ eavesdrop!"

"No, you just stood there hiding behind the door for a bit." He sarcastically replies.

"…_have arrived at the Hawthorn and Vine station!"_

Pursing her lips, she says: "That's my stop! Bye, Soul! Thanks for returning my book!" And she proceeds to shoves her way to the exit. She doesn't see his lazy wave but she manages to get one last glimpse at his crooked smile before she hurries onward to Shibusen U.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **By 'A.D.', I mean Artist Diploma lol I did my research, damn it xD

_Scarlett._


	4. Chapter 4

**Away From The Sun  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><em>Quatre<em>

* * *

><p>Soul is a complex enigma.<p>

Over the past three weeks, she has seen him numerous times. She doesn't know where it is he goes to so early in the morning, what he is doing so far away from Juilliard School of Music, but she _does_ know that the most she receives from him is a nod of the head or a slight grin in her direction when they catch each others eye in the subway.

But they don't talk.

They just mind their own business.

She has mixed emotions about that.

It's like high school all over again – only they're adults now and she isn't so scrawny and thin and he isn't loud and a trouble-magnet. She'd describe him as aloof and introverted just from watching him through the reflection of the window. The way he loses himself in thought as he listens to music, sometimes takes out his phone to text someone, ignores anyone who tries to strike up conversation with him...

That's her problem today: there's this guy, she'd say he's pretty handsome, but whatever appeal he has is lost when he opens his mouth.

"So, you goin' to school or something?"

"Yeah." She keeps her replies short and clean. This guy has been struggling to strike up conversation with her for the past two minutes now and it's starting to become painful. He's stubborn, unwilling to give up. She doesn't get it, either: _what_ caught his eye? The fact that she looks four years younger than she actually is? Her dull blonde hair let loose today? Maybe it was her eyes. She'd admit she has nice eyes. They were green, a strange green – like olives, like the humid leaves in a rain forest.

"Soo… what're you studying? Fashion or something?"

Maka turns away and closes her eyes, counting to three so she doesn't loose her temper. Fashion? Really? _Fashion_? Does she look like she honestly cares about her appearance? Does she look like the type to get her nails done, get facials, do her hair, apply make up, choose out snazzy and appealing clothes?

After calming herself enough to speak, Maka says through her teeth: "No. I'm studying to become an M.D. like my mother."

"…M.D.?"

"Medical Doctor."

"Oh! So you're gonna' be a doctor, huh?" The guy grins, a handsome grin. His has soft blond hair that falls over twinkling blue eyes. He's a pretty boy, Maka quietly notes, the type to go for pretty girls. All things considered, she isn't that pretty. She supposes she fits in the cute category if only because she has the tendency to tie her hair up in pigtails. "That's awesome! Maybe you can treat me one day, who knows?" He laughs, getting more comfortable in his seat; as if he's just found an opening in her defense and she will begin to speak.

_Not likely_, Maka thinks smugly, turning away from him again. There's still at least five more stops to go before she can get rid of him. She taps her foot impatiently as her stop nears. Just four more. Three more now but he won't shut up. When there's one more stop left, Maka stands up so fast she nearly drops her messenger bag off her lap. She sends him – Hiro, was it? – a forced smile of goodbye and squeezes her way through the crowd to reach the exit.

And then she realizes he _followed_ her!

"Hey, uh, I didn't really catch your name…"

"Maka." She replies, tightly. "Just Maka."

"Alright 'Just Maka'," he chuckles at his own joke. He thinks he's so clever, huh? Maka's seen much more creative ways of picking up girls that had bigger success results than this pathetic attempt. "So, maybe we can grab a coffee someday or something—!"

The train brakes to a stop and Maka's hand shoots out to grab the pole. She just barely grabs it, her body bumping into a man. After getting sneered at by him, Maka simmers and glares ahead at the closing door. Just one more stop, she thinks, one more stop and then she can get away from this idiot who just can't take a hint! She bites her lip and takes a chance, squeezing past a few people as the train begins to head to her station.

"Whoa, watch out!" Hiro exclaims when she wobbles dangerously.

Her hand shoots out to grab the pole but she comes short and she knows she's gonna' hurt her hip on the seat if she doesn't do something now. However, someone grabs her. Someone grabs her firmly by both shoulders and steadies her as the train continues en route to Hawthorn and Vine.

For a second, she's horrified it's Hiro.

"Smooth, Maka," Soul drawls from behind her. His chest is so broad, she finds herself thinking with a swallow. And his hands are still grabbing her shoulders, making her remember that couple all those weeks ago. The guy who had saved that girl from being swept up into the crowd with a simple outstretch of his hand. "Y'know, you could just tell that guy to beat it."

"You saw?" Maka clears her throat, hastily stepping out of his hold. She grabs one of the handles above like him, turning to look up at him and his glinting eyes.

"Since he started talking to you." He reveals, surprising her a bit. When she'd snuck a glance at him, his eyes had been closed and his foot had been tapping to a beat. "It was just too funny to pass up. What'd he tell you? If you were eighteen yet or something?"

Maka narrows her eyes at his jab at her appearance. "For your information, he was just asking me what I'm going to study. He thought I was going to study Fashion." She scoffs, irate. "Who the hell studies _Fashion_? That's not a major – that's a waste of money!"

Soul chuckles. "Hey, there's always a new fad every couple of weeks. People make hundreds of dollars off just one jacket. It's a pretty good business."

"For the ones who can't do anything else." Maka snorts, derisively. This only makes his grin widen. The train comes to a stop and Maka sighs, saying: "My sto—_ah!_"

"I _really_ hope you're not this clumsy in Shibusen." Soul whispers into her ear, holding her tightly by her forearm. He's saved her again. The train jerks to a complete stop, automated doors chiming. And he's still holding onto her, his breath tickling the rim of her ear. Making her heart melt, her blood boil in her veins. "I can't be there to catch you if you are."

_This_ is how you catch a woman's attention, Maka thinks faintly. She hopes Hiro is taking notes. She stumbles back, nodding mutely, and manages to choke out a proper goodbye to Soul before hurrying out of the train. She just makes it out, to her relief. But when she looks back, she catches Soul's eye again.

And he winks.

And she feels her face flush red and then she notices Hiro and his scowl and realizes Soul had just helped her out without her knowing.

He'd just gotten Hiro off her back...

The subway leaves, the whirl of air making her hair whip across her reddened cheeks.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I use Hiro _way_ too much for these things. I was actually going to use Kid but then I realized I could use his character for something else. Hiro needs more screen time, anyway :P

_Scarlett._


	5. Chapter 5

**Away From The Sun  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><em>Cinq<em>

* * *

><p>She hasn't pulled an all-nighter since she was sixteen but pulling one when she's twenty two should be easy, right? Yet right now she feels like she's about to pass out on the seat, after feeling jittery and awake for the past few hours. The subway sways on the tracks, only serving to rock her to sleep as she begins to nod off. There's a moment where she <em>does<em> fall asleep, shoulders slumped forward and chin resting on her chest and all while the subway continues undisturbed, but a sudden bump against her knee jars her awake so quickly she groans when her head pounds.

"You look dead."

Maka cracks an eye open and finds Soul has taken seat beside her, his headphones around his neck.

"Hi, Soul." She stifles a yawn, sitting up straight again. She's relieved to see that at least she hadn't missed her stop – _that_ would've made this shitty day even shittier.

Soul raises a questioning brow at her.

"I stayed up studying for a test today because I couldn't sleep." She bemoans.

"…Staying up studying for a test only to fall asleep _during_ said test doesn't seem very productive." Soul comments smartly, but Maka's too tired to really punish him for it.

So she just sighs and says, "Tsubaki has my coffee. She's waiting for me at Shibusen. That cup will be enough to get through the test. It's my job that's worrying me…"

"You have a job?" He says, casually tossing her a glance. "Where?"

"Bakery by Bronson and Tower." Maka answers, feeling more awake now that she has something to entertain her brain with. "At least I don't have baking duty today. I'd probably burn the place down and get fired."

"And arrested for arson." He adds.

Maka _does_ glare this time. "Good thing for_ that!_" She snorts. "The most I can mess up is the change…"

"Working registry?"

"Yep."

"Don't worry, he'll just take it out of your paycheck." He drawls with a smirk.

"And there goes my rent."

"And your apartment."

"And life as I know it."

"It could always be worse."

Maka frowns. "That already sounds really bad."

He stretches, ignoring the lady that gasps and send him a dirty look because his shoes have dirtied her own. "Well, you could always be dead."

Maka laughs. "I think being dead would actually solve all of my problems, Soul."

"Fine. You could always be in debt." He grins at her ponderous look. "Having someone after you because you can't pay is worse than being homeless. You can always crash at a friends house or something if that happens. But owing something to someone is a bitch."

"You know from experience?" Maka asks, playfully.

"You can say that." He answers, lazily. "Black Star loaned me five bucks once so I could buy lunch. He was on my ass about when I'd pay him back for _weeks_ until I finally did."

"All for five dollars?" Maka says, incredulous.

"That's what I said." He snorts. "He's stingy with his money. You gotta' lose some to gain some, but try telling him that." He yawns, and it's contagious because now she's yawning and, as they're swept into a lull, she's grown sleepy again. Her stop is almost here and Maka tells herself she's only resting her eyes but when Soul suddenly shakes her awake, she knows it's been more than ten minutes and she's probably going to miss her stop.

"_Shit!_" Maka swears, tearing through the crowd to reach the door. She stops it before it closes completely, squeezing herself through the crack until she makes it to the other side. Heart in her throat, feeling more awake than she'd _ever_ felt before, she looks back to find Soul hunched over with his shoulders shaking. It takes her a few moments to realize it's because he's laughing and when he looks up, Maka sticks her tongue out at him.

That only makes him grin harder and Maka's left with a warm feeling in her stomach for the rest of the morning.

That warm feeling – or the _coffee_, for the matter – doesn't last very long. Now Maka is struggling to stay awake as she stands behind the register at the bakery, slumped over the counter while the cook is in the back kneading doe. She can hear him rummaging through the pantry, stubbing his toe on the leg of a table and swearing. But it's a pretty dull evening and she's likely not going to make it another five minutes with how boring this evening is shaping out to be.

So she slumps forward, resting her head in her arms. Sticking out one hip, spreading her legs so she won't lose balance, Maka falls asleep on the counter and she swears it's the _best_ nap she's ever taken. Although it's a risk because her boss - who so happens to be the baker filing in for the original cook, Jackie, in the kitchens – isn't a very understanding guy. He wouldn't bat an eye when firing her for falling asleep on the job. But at this point – at six in the evening, after a long day of tests and walking – Maka doesn't care if he does.

She just wants to sleep, is that so bad?

"_Hey_…" The voice is as soft as a purr, smooth like velvet. It sounds nice, soothing. "_Maka_…_wake_ _up, Maka._"

"Ngh…"

"Maka…" It's louder now, losing that alluring edge.

"Fi' more mins…"

"WAKE UP!"

"AH!" She gasps, jerking awake. She's brought out of her daze by laughter, Soul's laughter. The sight of him in the bakery, _not_ in the subway, is jarring. What is he doing here of all places? "Soul? Is that really you?"

"The one and only." He drawls, smugly. "Figures you'd fall asleep. You know, I could've stolen all the money in that register and you wouldn't have noticed. And then you'd be jobless, broke, homeless _and_ in debt."

"Soul, that is _not_ funny." Maka groans, standing straight. She winces: her back aches. Her knee's hurt and she regrets falling asleep in such an uncomfortable position, no matter how lovely that nap had been. "What are you doing here?"

"Tsubaki sent me." Soul answers. At her confused look, he elaborates: "Actually, she told Black Star who told me and I decided to come here and put you outta' your misery. When's your shift over?"

"Eight."

"…It's eight forty."

"_What?_" Maka squawks, snapping her head to the clock. As he'd said, it was already eight forty. She should've closed the registry nearly fifty minutes ago and she briefly wonders where her boss is. He should've come around to check on her! She doubts he was merciful enough to allow her to catch up on some much needed hours of sleep. " I..I've been sleeping for two hours!"

"Great. Then you won't fall asleep on the Metro." Soul says, unconcerned. "C'mon, it's late and I'm hungry!"

"I…Okay, I won't take long." Maka sighs, closing the registry and heading to the back. When she peeks inside, she realizes the reason for why Ox Ford did not wake her: he's on the phone, laughing at something the person on the other line said. "I'm leaving," she announces, and receives a rude _shut up_ from him, who quickly sweetens at something the person on the other line says and assures that it wasn't meant for her.

It's Kim: who _else_ can get her rude, hostile, boss like that?

Maka just hangs her apron and takes out her sweater, slipping it on once more. She shoulders her bag and closes her small locker, not bothering to wave goodbye at her employer. He'd probably not notice it anyway. When Maka emerges again, Soul's already outside with his hands jammed in his pockets and gazing at traffic. She can't help but wonder what compelled him to go out of his way to ensure she would make it home safe, as she pushes the door open and the bells jingle.

"Ready?" He asks, and starts walking to the train station when she nods. The walk is mostly silent, with the offhanded comment from her and a nod or shrug from Soul. She stops trying to get him to talk by the third try, deciding she'd rather not annoy him. She knows firsthand how it feels to be annoyed by someone you don't want to talk to, Hiro's image flashing behind her eyelids for a beat.

The train station is silent when they arrive. There are few people waiting for the train to come and they show no inclination to speak. They're distracted with their iPods or their phones or their books, even. So Maka and Soul take seat on one of the marble benches and await the arrival of the train, the latter placing his headphones over his ears again.

Maka just reaches into her bag, taking out her textbook and going through her notes. She catches Soul glancing at her sometimes but mainly keeps to her own business: he's probably wondering how she could be studying at a time like this. She tells herself that if he makes even _one_ smart comment, the spine of her book is going to get intimate with his skull.

But he just tosses her a few more glances before looking down the tunnel the train will come through. Maka goes back to reading her notes, encoding the information until the wind begins to pick up. Her hair whips around her and she slips her textbook back in her bag, the train darting into the station seconds after. As it slows to a stop, the doors sliding open, Maka is relieved to find the train hardly occupied.

"Where do you get off this time?" Soul asks, taking seat beside her. This time he stretches without anyone blocking his way.

"At the Hale station." Maka answers, placing her bag on her lap.

"That's pretty far," he comments. But he just yawns and slumps down in his seat, headphones back on his ears and his foot tapping to the beat. Maka doesn't try to study her notes in the train: she'll get motion sickness, and feeling nauseas and drowsy isn't a pretty combination.

She just watches the lights flash past the window, her eyes growing heavier and heavier with every hypnotizing flash. Eventually, her head bumps against the glass but she doesn't completely fall asleep: she's conscious to every stop the train makes, the walking of people and mindless chatter, and _especially_ when Soul's shoulder presses against hers as he sinks deeper into his seat.

After a moment of listening to the screeching of brakes as the train slows on a curve, Maka also leans against him. It doesn't take very long for him to lean back, leveling each other. But he's warm, and if she tilts her head a little she can catch the scent of refreshing body wash and leather.

"_Hey, Maka_," he whispers a stop early. It makes a tremble race down her body, pleasant chills rise on her arms as he continues: "_wake up. We're almost there._"

She does, snapping her eyes open. She turns her head towards him, stilling when she realizes he hasn't moved his face yet. They're so _close_ – she can feel his breath on her lips, the unruly fringes of his hair feather the structure of her cheek. In an instant, they both jerk away from each other. The only difference is her face has colored red down to her neckline and he just jams his hands in his pockets, turning away from her awkwardly.

"Uh, yeah, we're almost there."

"Oh. Okay, thanks."

"Yeah."

"Mhm."

When she walks out of the train after biding Soul goodbye, she can't help but notice that as she rubs out a drowsy eye, her face feels hot and her heart is still beating a song in her chest...

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **By 'Metro', I mean Metrolink. It's just a transportation service that runs the subway and buses around here and other places.


	6. Chapter 6

**Away From the Sun  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><em>Six<em>

* * *

><p>"You <em>wrecked <em>your motorcycle?" Maka gapes when he nods and points to his arm. She watches him pull the sleeve up, revealing healing, scarred, flesh underneath. It makes her chest tighten painfully. That must have looked terrible when he awoke from the crash.

"Yeah, some idiot didn't see me or something and caught the back of my wheel." He explains, lowering his sleeve. "I have another scar on my chest." He rubs that absently. The subway rocks with motion, rather empty at this time of morning. It's a Sunday and she is heading over to the mall to meet up with her friend, Tsubaki, for a nice little outing to relieve the stress of university.

She happened to spot him sitting lonesome by the back of the train and had mustered up enough courage to head over to him and say hi, sitting down after getting a positive reaction. At least he hadn't sent her away with a flat look like he does to other girls who try to talk to him.

"You're so lucky to be alive! You should get a car instead. It's a lot safer!" She insists.

But he waves her concerns off. "When I decided to get a bike, I knew the risks. And I _know_ the risks better now that I was in this accident. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna' give up riding."

"But what if you wreck again and you aren't so lucky this time?" She challenges.

"Well, then, at least you can say that I was the _coolest_ guy you've ever met." He grins at her, rolling his eyes at her slit – but concerned – emerald eyes. "Relax, I can't afford another bike yet. It'll be months before I decide to get on one again… for now, I'm stuck taking the subway everywhere I go."

"It's much safer than riding a motorcycle." Maka stubbornly says.

"Yeah, and a lot lamer." He grumps.

"But at least you'll be alive longer!"

"And what does me living longer have anything to do with this?"

"What does it – I don't want you to _die, _stupid!" Maka shouts, fiercely. He just arches a brow, his smile growing into an amused grin the longer she rants about how his life is valuable and how many would miss him if he were gone and how he shouldn't take his life for granted like he's doing.

When he chuckles, Maka's rant put to a pause, he just leans back in his seat and lets a few more chuckles escape his lips.

"What's so funny?" She demands, bordering on a growl.

"You." He grins at her sneer. "That's just too cute. Going off about the importance of me not dying. You're probably the only person whose gone far enough to lecture me about it." He explains, adjusting his headphones on his neck while she pinks and looks at him strangely.

"No one else has told you?"

"Nope. Parents didn't really care, just said not to buy an expensive motorcycle, and my brother didn't know until a year later. But he still didn't say anything." Soul says, watching her brows crease worriedly. She cared, and it made his fondness for her ratchet up a little more. "Black Star thought it was awesome, so he didn't even mention I could _die_ at any moment if I made it my main mode of transportation."

"Black Star?" Maka asks, perking up. "So you're still friends with that idiot?" She knows he is but she still wants to hear it come out of his mouth.

"Yeah." He notices her disdainful look and adds: "He ain't that bad now."

"He'll _always_ be bad." She scoffs. She crosses her legs, annoyed at the thought of him. "He was the bane of my existence when we were in high school."

"Oh, c'mon." He smirks. "Just cause he called you out every time he could and he dubbed you pigtails?"

"_YES!_" Maka yells, hotly. He lets the fleeting thought of _her skirts riding up her thighs _interrupt his thought process before he focuses on what Maka has to say next: "Do you know how embarrassing it is when everyone doesn't know you by your name but by 'pigtails'?"

"It couldn't be that bad." He scoffs. He looks away: her skirt is too short. But she's always worn short skirts. He remembers the time during high school they were climbing up the stairs and he had been a few steps behind her and a strong wind had blown past them. He got the best panty shot _ever, _ruined by her plain and uninteresting white underwear.

"What if everyone knew you by Sharkie?" Maka flatly shoots back, earning herself a glare.

"What'd you just call me, Pigtails?"

"I said, what if everyone knew you by _Sharkie_?_" _She repeats, not at all afraid when he leans closer to her, lifting his lips in a sneer.

"I'd be pretty pissed." He hisses.

"How do you think _I _felt?" She strikes back, her eyes burning up. After a moment of holding her stare, he leans back and exhales a breath; not at all in the mood to be trying to hold a staring competition with a girl who was far too interesting for her own good.

"Alright, so?"

"So I hate him! Some people _still_ call me that!"

"Wait, so it stuck through until college?" He cackles, clutching his gut. "Oh, man! That's rich! I can't wait to tell Black—!" He sucks in a breath and slams back into the seat, wide-eyed as she grabs the front of his shirt and shoves him closer to her. He can feel her breath tickle his lips; inhale the mint from her gum.

"You let one word of this slip to him and you'll find yourself waking up in the hospital with no recollection of the last few hours." Maka hisses threateningly, prepared to reach into her bag and pull out her novel if necessary.

Soul raises his brows but says nothing, watching her watch him. He vaguely hears the conductor announce her stop in the background as his surprise melts into a sultry confidence. "_Really_," he drawls, leaning down a little more. Confusion flickers through her eyes before they widen, realizing what he was doing. "What're you gonna' give me in return? It's a pretty big secret to keep all to myself..."

She feels heat rise to her cheek and she moves back. But he follows, to her utmost panic, a feline playfulness sparking in his ruby eyes. She knows she should tell him to back off but it's a little hard when you feel like a rock had lodged itself in your throat.

"Soul, don't make me hurt you." She chokes out. His eyes just glint a little more.

"I'm serious, Maka—!" and she freezes when their lips touch when the train jerks to a stop. His own eyes widen, as if he hadn't thought their lips would really meet. He probably hadn't. But they _have_ and she feels them tingle when they jerk back, staring at each other. It's making blood pool in her cheeks and making her heart thump _really_ loudin her ears—!

"…_have arrived at the Sunset and Yale station…"_

"Uh, crap, my bad!" Soul sputters, quick to regain his cool and look down to hide his steadily reddening face. "The train stopped, so…"

"I… it's okay. It was an accident." She coughs, staggering up. "I should probably go."

"Yeah, later."

Her mouth feels hot. They remember the feeling of his lips. She wants to feel them again but instead she waves a hasty goodbye and marches to the exit, casting him one last hesitant look.

His teeth have caught his lip between them, seemingly lost in thought.

Maka bites her own and shakes her head, hurrying to meet Tsubaki at the front of the station, where they'd agreed to meet.


	7. Chapter 7

**Away From the Sun  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><em>Sept<em>

* * *

><p>She can't stop looking at them and it's driving her <em>insane<em>.

But they're so perfect to her now, how could she not have noticed before? From the swell of his lower lip to the glint of the pointed teeth that peek from between them. The color, size, _texture_ – she grits her own teeth and glares at the window of the subway sullenly.

It's been a few days since that incident but the day after had been the most embarrassing in her life, as far as she knows. Just sitting beside him, hearing her own heart drum in her ears, trying to come up with something to break the awkward tension in the air. She was lucky Soul was blessed with the innate ability to smooth everything over, for when he opened his mouth, a safe conversation about bands and rock invaded the otherwise strained silence.

Although he ended up angering her by criticizing her musical taste, it was _much_ better than sitting there silently until her stop came.

The problem is, now that they've outwardly established they were both suffering from a one minute amnesia about that small accident, she can't stop looking at his lips. They haven't been much of a distraction before but now they are: every time he laughs, he grins, he smirks, he puffs out a chuckle at whatever it is she says…

She's a little relieved Hiro has come to distract her from her furtive glances.

Anymore of those and eventually she'd be obvious. If she wasn't already, that is.

"Going to college again?" Hiro starts off, pretty casual.

Maka stands by the automated doors, holding onto the pole. Soul has entered only a few minutes ago but, as usual, he goes to sit toward the back. She wants to sit beside him but waiting for a seat to vacate would likely give off a different intention than she wants. And perhaps it's better this way: watching him from afar, like she did in high school, had always been the safer route.

"Yeah, what about you?" Maka continues, probably damning herself. But she needs to stop glancing up at the window to catch his reflection, to catch sight of his lips. She tightens her grip on the pole.

Hiro seems surprised she even replied and enthusiastically says: "Oh! I'm goin' to work! I work part-time at this bookstore by Whitey street."

This perks her interest. Maka fully faces him, a smile blossoming on her face. "Really? I know that bookstore. I go there all the time! I didn't know they were hiring... if I had known, I would've applied! It's definitely better than my own job." She sighs, knowing that after her classes she'd have to drag herself back to that dismal bakery for another seven hours.

"Where do you work at?" He asks, curiously.

"At this bakery – trust me, you do _not_ want to go there." Maka says, wincing a little. She shouldn't be speaking so badly about her job. It wasn't like the pastries were bad, she just disliked her boss. She thinks it's the same thing: love was another ingredient in cooking, right? Something her boss didn't have enough of – except for Kim, that is. Then he had too much love. She sighs again. "It's not that big, but he pays well."

Hiro laughs. "Sounds pretty bad. You must not have much to do there. It's the same for me at the bookstore – man, it's so _boring_ in there! There's just a bunch of books all around!" Maka's smile falls off her face completely, her stare becoming glacial. "And that old guy in there is such a pain! He's always tellin' me to go restock the shelves. Like they need restocking – we barely _sell_ anything." He shakes his head, blinking at the narrow-eyed look she's sending him.

"…That _old guy _has a name. It's Sid, and he's a very nice man!" She growls through her teeth, ignoring his sputtering. She turns away from him and glares at the automated doors, fighting back the urge to shout at him to shut up because it wasn't like he had a chance with her anyway.

Not since she felt Soul's lips.

Speaking of Soul, Maka glances up at his reflection in the window. Some of her irritation fades at the sight of his snickering grin, the satisfied look that mars his face. He's looking at them, Maka notes, he's looking at Hiro and how he's struggling to get her to pay attention to his apology.

"…I didn't mean it! I didn't know you were friends with the guy!" Hiro laments, placing a hand on her shoulder. The action makes her look over at him, up at his apologetic blue eyes. "Seriously, I'm sorry." He says, and her eyes drift down his own lips.

They're not as attractive as she finds Soul's to be. They're too pale, thin. Definitely not as alluring as Soul's. She lets her eyes return to his own, the apprehension and hope that glimmers within. She heaves a silent sigh because she can't be mad a person when they look this sincere, so she turns back to him and offers a small smile of forgiveness.

"Hey! Let me make it up to you!" Hiro suddenly suggests, causing her shoulders to stiffen. "Let me take you out for dinner!"

"Um, I don't think that's a good idea, Hiro—!"

"No, c'mon, I was being a bastard. It's the least I could do." Hiro coaxes, pulling on a charming smile. She drops her eyes to the floor, pinking a little. He really does have a smile worthy enough to photograph, thin lips and all. "What do you say, Maka?"

"Well..." She looks back up at him. Agreeing to have dinner with him could go one of two ways: it could go great, which would mix up her feelings. Or it could go bad, which would make her step closer to Soul. But what were the chances of Soul even liking her back? Maka reasons. Here was this equally handsome guy, willing to take her to dinner, his crystal blue eyes catching the light the way diamonds would. "I—!"

"_And we_ _have arrived at Hawthorn and Vine station…"_

"I have to go!" Maka says instead, blood draining from her face at what she had nearly agreed to. Hiro looks like he wants to say something but she doesn't give him the chance: she just about runs to the door, shoving past a couple and not halting her rapid stride for anything. She can feel the panic drain from her veins the further she walks, her heart regain its normal thump-thump beat.

What had that been all about?


	8. Chapter 8

**Away From the Sun  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><em>Huit<em>

* * *

><p><em>This isn't something I'm used to<em>, Maka thinks with a troubled sigh.

She clutches the pole as Soul stands behind her and Hiro stands on her other side. She had been on the verge of telling Hiro she was not interested, as he'd asked her again today with a hopeful smile, when Soul suddenly appeared from behind, greeting her with that aloof drawl of his and successfully killing her nerve. And then Hiro, whose eyes had soured and shoulders had squared, had the audacity of introducing himself to Soul with a haughtiness he certainly never showed when speaking to her.

Needless to say, the way Soul had said his own name – with an jeering edge – had set alarms off in her head. And now here they were: Maka waiting for her stop to arrive, two hostile males on either side looking on the verge of tearing each other to shreds if the other didn't quit with the sarcastic attitude. After the first few minutes of listening to them exchange barbs, because neither knew how to give up apparently, Maka decides to take a stand.

"Can you two just _shut up!_" She snaps, silencing Hiro almost instantly. She turns back to Soul, dangerously. "Other people are watching!" She hisses, glancing at the old man whose watching the verbal fight for dominance with only too much knowing.

"If that dumbass shuts the hell up, yeah." Soul says, earning himself a dirty sneer from Hiro.

"Soul, please." Maka groans. That old man with the knowing eyes? Now he's chuckling. "Can't you two just get along? What are you two fighting about any—_HAHY!_" She gasps, slamming into Soul's chest when the subway comes to a jerking halt. His hands grab her shoulders tightly, feet pressing firmly into the floor to keep himself from tumbling back as well.

She sighs in relief and says, "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention" and looks up at him.

But there's that _look_ that pauses her: an internal conflict she doesn't understand yet. Her mouth parts to ask what was wrong but the train picks up speed again and she's back to holding onto the pole, Hiro scowling at Soul but relenting and Soul just looking out the window with a small frown on his lips.

It's a scene continues to reply in her mind like a broken film roll even hours later. She's walking out of Shibusen U with Tsubaki by her side now, the girl speaking of the new professor that has taken the place of their previous chemistry one. But she can't focus on that: her thoughts, all of them, somehow end up steering back toward that conflicting look in his eye. She doesn't understand what it is that makes him look that way and her stomach twists and knots at the thought of it being her fault. He certainly doesn't look like anything in particular is bothering him... until he looks at her.

It makes her heart sink.

"Are you okay, Maka?" Tsubaki asks, noticing her downcast eyes. "Maka?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." She shakes the feelings off, smiling reassuringly at Tsubaki. "I'm sure this new professor will be better. The last one wasn't that great – he always went off tangent during lectures." She says, and Tsubaki laughs and continues her tale.

And she's _still_ trying to figure out Soul's heartache as she hands the customer in the bakery a bag of bread and her change. She thought, by this time, she'd be able to forget that look but it seems to only sharpen; focus in on the ringlets of crimson and flecks of black that is his iris. There are many ideas that come to mind, some wishful thinking and others a real possibility, so she's only too eager to leave her shift when Ox comes in and shoos her back home with that disgruntled frown and haughty fixing of his glasses.

And when the train finally arrives, halting to a stop before her after a twenty minute wait, Maka steps inside feeling less confident than before. Because as she turns to look down the subway, she finds Soul slouched in his seat as usual: headphones over his ears, foot tapping to the beat. He gets off late every Thursday, she's noticed. She just wishes it wasn't _today_ that he looked at her like that because she still can't be sure if it's all her fault or something else.

He cracks an eye open, noticing her, and straights up and his headphones fall off his head; settling on his neck again.

She can't just ignore him now. So she walks further down the train, plopping down beside him. It's mainly silent until they reach the next stop. That's when Maka decides it's now or never and speaks:

"Bad day at work today?" Maka prompts carefully, gauging his expression.

"You can say that." He replies, vaguely. He looks at her and there's that _conflict_ again, making her brows crease with concern. Just _what_ is eating at him, bothering him? She wishes he was as simple as her anatomy professor describes his experiments: a simple slice down the sternum, opening of the chest cavity. Prodding and picking and discovering and _knowing_…

"Is something wrong, Soul?" She asks, receiving a shake of the head.

"Nah, don't worry about it."

"…was it something Hiro said?" She continues, his shoulders stiffening. "Soul, you should know by now that Hiro's an idiot." She sighs. So _that_ had been it: it was something Hiro said. It wasn't her fault! That conflict in his eyes – he was probably deciding whether he should beat him up or not. "I'm probably going to come a little earlier now. He knows my schedule." She frowns, crossing her leg.

"That's creepy."

"Well, he does want to take me on a date," Maka says, thoughtful. "So it's not _that_ creepy. It's just weird that he likes me."

"How come?"

"Well, I'm not that much to look at, and I'm pretty boring." She forces a laugh, a weak smile. But it's true: she's not that interesting. Even she admits that to herself.

"That's not true." Soul scoffs, and she looks at him curiously. "You're way more than you come off as. For one, I didn't take you as the violent type. Proved me wrong." He shudders, remembering how she'd stomped on his foot when he made fun of her sweaters. That had hurt more than he's willing to admit. "And you always have something to say. You just can't take that you're wrong, huh?"

"That's not true!" Maka argues, and he points a finger at her.

"See! Point proven." He flatly says, jamming his hands back into his pockets. "You're way more interesting than you give yourself credit for. He noticed," he adds, with distaste. "That's why he keeps bugging you."

"Well, even if all that's true, why doesn't he take a hint? I don't know how many times I've blown him off..."

"Maybe he thinks you're playing hard to get." Soul suggests.

"But I'm not!"

"Sometimes I think you are." Soul shrugs, making her brows meet in disbelief. And he watches as she swells with irritation, go off on a rant about how wrong he is and how right she is. She just doesn't see it: how interesting she is, how adorable she can be with her ridiculous knit sweaters that make her look so small and huggable, her emerald eyes that shimmer so bright when she laughs. Her hair, tied up in pigtails, sending him back to a time when everything was simpler. And then he remembers how soft her lips felt when they pressed against his, how he'd jolted awake one night sweating and feverish and unable to grasp his ghostly dream – unable to remember anything aside from bright, burning, green eyes.

And it hits him just like that, like a vision.

"_Soul!"_ Maka screeches, grinding her teeth at his blank look. He's flat-out ignoring her: she _knows_ when she's being ignored! And now he's chuckling—_laughing?_ He really knows how to push her buttons. "What are you laughing about? You better not be laughing at me – dammit, Soul!"

"Your stop is here, idiot, let's go." Soul distracts her, grabbing her by the arm. But she follows, puzzled by his actions, and even more confused when he drags her to the automated doors while the train is still running full-tilt.

Then it slows.

And she presses into his chest, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.

And then the train comes to a complete stop.

And he still hasn't let go so she looks up, finding no conflict; no trouble, nothing.

She's met with a crooked grin, twinkling ruby eyes, that makes conflict spark in her _own _eyes.

"You alright?"

"What?"

He snorts, looking away as the doors chime open.

And then she realizes what his conflict had been all along.

She's never _not_ wanted to leave the train station as much as she did there.


	9. Chapter 9

**Away From the Sun  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><em>Neuf<em>

* * *

><p>"Was it scary?"<p>

"Playing in front of people?" Soul let out a breath. "Hell yeah. I didn't wanna' do it at first, but my friend Kilik convinced me. It wasn't so bad after the first time."

"I was so nervous the first time I had to do a major presentation. I can only imagine how it'd be playing songs for a crowd of strangers." Maka sympathizes, but he shrugs it off and continues with his tale. It's probably the most to date that Soul had spoken of his past to her and Maka feels content knowing he trusts her enough to do so.

"Is that why you're here then?" Maka asks, turning to look at him. He raises a brow, urging to continue her thought. "You had a lot of gigs, right? Did you get discovered or something?"

His lips quirk into a small grin at her sharp deduction skills. "Yeah. I never thought I'd get a record deal. I mean, I was gonna' be a producer for the label that _signed _me." He shakes his head, chuckling. "Man, if I knew I was gonna' be famous I wouldn't have gone to college."

Maka laughs, elbowing him softly in the ribs. "College prepared you for that!"

"Trust me: it didn't."

She only shakes her head, delving into another thought and voicing it once more, getting a response again. This continues, sliding from subject to subject.

Comfortable, absent talk.

"Winters are killer in New York. Freezed my ass off every time."

"It's always been really hot here..."

"I'd take heat over cold any day, Maka."

"You say that now..."

"Yes. I say that now and every time. I like the heat, not snow."

She just rolls her eyes, knowing he'd be complaining about it when summer came.

Stupid, funny, crazy talk.

"You're lucky you didn't get fired on the first day."

"I wasn't gonna' mop up puke. That's disgusting, and someone as cool as me shouldn't be reduced to moping up some kids vomit."

"But it was your _job!_"

"My uncool job. I quit after a week, anyway. Got a job as a waiter at some classy restaurant. The tips were great."

Maka shakes her head. "You're such a...a..."

"A what?" He grins, looking at her. The word is plastered all over her face; he wants to hear it come out of her mouth. "Say it."

"A..."

"Say it, Maka, I dare you."

"A slut!"

"I think the word you're looking for is whore, actually."

Maka runs a hand down her face as he cracks up at her irritation.

Personal divulging of information.

"Lemme' get this straight..." Soul says after another hour, slowly. Maka sits beside him, comfortably seated on the bench. The night is cool and the sky is dark, the moon cut out in the wall of black. There's a pond a couple of feet away from them, and the ghostly mist that rolls off the surface of the water makes her tremble a little. "So, your old man cheated on your mom with a bunch of strippers and then _she _left… and then _you _left? You were, what, fifteen?"

"Yeah, but I was confident I could make it on my own. I got a job at a fast food place and I rented a room… granted, I barely made enough a month to pay the rent, but it was better than living with my dad until I was eighteen." Maka says, wrapping the hem of her sweater around her hands to keep them warm

She doesn't quite recall the exact sequence of events that led to this bearing of the heart but she doesn't really care. She remembers entering the train that Thursday night and next thing she knows, she's getting off three whole stops early and walking with Soul down to the park, which has been deserted for the past hour or so. She doesn't mind the lonely atmosphere of the place. It's a little hard to, with Soul beside her the entire time. He's enough company.

"You got it worse," he decides. "I just called up Black Star and asked him if I could crash with him for a while. Idiot didn't even charge me anything for living there until my dumbass mentioned it."

Maka giggles. "Do you still room with him now?"

"Nah. I moved out when I went to New York. It was hell over there – I actually had to _work_." He sighs, loudly. But he grins when she laughs, able to catch 'so lazy' between each giggle. "Right now I got my own place and I _don't_ wake up with hangovers every Saturday." He rolls his eyes. "Black Star always threw parties at his place. It was annoying when I actually wanted to sleep."

"I heard about them when we were in high school. He would always invite everyone and people got used to partying at his place every Friday night." Maka remembers always being excluded from such invitations. It wasn't that Black Star directly singled her out, but it was obvious someone of her social ranking wouldn't fit in at one of Black Star's parties.

"You never came though."

"I didn't think I should. I know Tsubaki was dating him but it just felt like he wouldn't want me there." Maka shrugs. "I didn't like him, so it wasn't a complete loss. I still don't. If I wanted to party, I'd just go with Liz and Patty."

"Oh, yeah. The Thompson sisters. They were pretty cool." Soul reminisces. He glances at her, mischievously. "_So_, I take it you weren't such a buzz kill as everyone thought you were?"

Maka smiles back, coyly. "I don't think anyone who doesn't know how to live a little would ever think about hanging out with Liz and Patty. They got really wild but they didn't force me to join in on their games. That's why I liked them so much: they didn't pressure me into doing something I didn't want to. I wasn't comfortable drinking until my head was numb, or hooking up with a random stranger in the bar, and they understood that and left me alone."

"Sounds crazy." Soul whistles. "So, what, you just babysat them, then?"

"Sometimes."

_"Sometimes?_"

"I had fun, too, Soul. I wasn't just sitting there drinking water!" Maka huffs. He looks skeptical. She purses her lips but doesn't comment. "I stopped going after I realized my dad was looking for me again. If I got caught with my fake ID, I'd give away my location instantly and I couldn't have that. That's the only reason I stopped accepting their invitations. They didn't hold it against me."

Soul digests this, amused at the thought of how Black Star would react to this news. He'd probably deny it – he was hardheaded that way. Soul grins and pats her head roughly, making her squeak in surprise. "Not fair, Maka. You were badass and I didn't even know it!"

"Quit it, Soul, you're messing up my hair!" She whines.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Here, let me fix it for you." He smirks, removing her hair bands and mussing up her hair something crazy. He only laughs harder when she blows up furiously; reaches over for his own head like lightening and extracting her own revenge. Only his hair seems to return to its usual shape like rubber, to her bewilderment and his smugness.

"Problem?"

"Your hair is weird!" Maka exclaims, running her fingers through it in an attempt to smooth it down. But it just spikes back up like plastic. She can't feel any sort of gel, anything of anything, it just feels soft and _manageable_. It defies any sort of logic she can muster up. "Why won't it stay down? You're not even using gel!"

"Beats me. It's always been like that." He yawns with disinterest, not bothered by the fact that she's practically leaning on him, trying to, in vain, ruin the cool tousle of his hair. He just looks up after a while of her tampering with his hair, snorting at the completely concentrated look in her eye as she continues to fight a losing battle.

He reaches up, halting her hands mid-swipe. "Seriously, it's not gonna' happen. I tried once – I had to use a whole bottle of gel to keep it down. " She scowls, glaring at his spiked hair as if it had wronged her somehow, but leans away.

His hand stays closed around her wrist as he lowers them between them and she sneaks a look at him. He's just looking up at the sky again, his other hand trying to flatten a tuff of white hair down his forehead absently. After a moment of hesitation, Maka wiggles out of his grasp and catches his hand before he can stuff it back into his pocket, looking down at her lap.

He doesn't look at her, either. He just tightens his grip on her hand, some tension releasing from his shoulders.

And she smiles a little.

His hand is warmer than any pocket, anyway.


	10. Chapter 10

**Away From the Sun  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><em>Dix<em>

* * *

><p>"<em>You need to leave, Soul!" <em>Maka hisses, looking apprehensively over her shoulder toward the double doors that lead to the kitchen. She knows that Ox is behind those doors, down the small hall that leads to his office. In the kitchens, she hears Jackie getting to work with baking as usual; better, now that she got over her cold.

The only reason Jackie was allowed to leave for such an extensive period of time was because of Kim. Everything Kim said, Ox was more than ninety percent likely to do. She bet that if Kim told him to be nicer to her, he would, but the thought of a nice Ox sent shivers down her spine. That was just plain creepy.

"How come? It's seven, Maka, you get off in like an hour. Can't I just hang out here til then?" Soul whines, leaning against the glass panel that gave view to various types of breads and pastries. "I got off early today – I'm _bored!_"

"Then go find something to do _elsewhere_!" Maka grits through her teeth. It was a _brilliant_ idea, to drop by here even after all the horror stories she told him about Ox. He has a death wish, Maka decides. "If Ox finds out that you're distracting me at work, he'll blow a gasket!"

"That sounds fun to watch." Soul perks up.

She groans. "_Go __away_—!"

"Maka." A voice sharply says from behind, freezing her up. "Are you being disrespectful to our customers?"

"Ah, no, sir. He's not even a customer – he's just a friend of mine who won't _leave me alone_." She narrows her eyes at Soul, who smirks tauntingly at her.

"A customer is a customer regardless if they buy or not and you'll do best not to disrespect them, if you know what's good for you." The threat laced in his words is more than clear and she watches frustratingly as he politely asks Soul if he wishes to buy anything, to which Soul replies with a no with that same shit-eating grin on his face.

It pisses her off something nasty, knowing he was enjoying her being scolded. Maka steps back and sends him a look worthy enough to kill, making sure to compose her face something normal when Ox eyes her again. After getting another lecture on manners, and holding herself back from smacking that grin off Soul's face, Ox leaves to the back to check on Jackie, and Maka hisses dangerously:

"Just _wait_ until I get off – you're going to know the true meaning of pain!"

"I can hardly wait." He drawls, unfazed.

And he does get a lesson in pain. By the time they're in the subway station, Soul is holding a possibly bleeding nose and a bump on his head courtesy of her Calculus textbook. After he decides his nose isn't going to gush blood from her well-placed punch and he stops furiously rubbing the bump on his head, he grumbles: "I did _not_ deserve that punch."

"I think you did."

"A punch _and_ a chop on the head? Cut me some slack." He mutters, rubbing his aching head again. He tenses when he feels her own hand cover his on his head tentatively. He looks at her, her half-smile of apology, and sighs and lets her gently rub away the pain from her chop. "You gotta' mean right hook, though."

"Thanks." She smiles, satisfied with his own apology.

When the train comes rushing into the station with an exhale of air that tousles their hair, Soul gestures her to the yellow caution mat with a nod of his head. As the train slows, finally halting, and the doors chime open as they usually did, he walks her inside and nearly stumbles when he realizes whose sitting in the seat before them.

It's Liz Thompson in a gray pencil skirt with a daring slit up the side and a black blazer thrown over her shoulder, button shirt buttoned _down_ almost indecently. She looks like a secretary, honey blonde hair styled in a bun and all, and Soul wouldn't be surprised if that's what she ended up doing in life. She was never one to focus in school and she was always so high maintenance. She probably got herself some rich boy and this was just something for her to kill time with. She's certainly beautiful enough for such a future: it's something Liz and Patty were famously known for, as well as being all-around party girls and rather sleazy at times.

"Soul, is something wrong?" Maka asks, curious.

"Uh, no." He coughs. He takes her wrist. "C'mon, let's go."

Liz looks up at that moment, slitting her eyes at him. She's recognized him but he pretends like he doesn't know her, tightening his grip on Maka's hand. If Maka and Liz began talking, it'd be hell. He'd be put through a long, drawn out, painfully sugar-coated reunion. That is certainly not his thing. He hopes to at least make it to the back, then he'd tell Maka of Liz. That way, he doesn't have to accompany her. So he hastens to the back when Liz suddenly calls Maka's name and effectively ruins a peaceful night.

"Liz? Liz, is that really you?" Maka gasps.

"Crap," Soul groans, unheard by both women.

"Oh, my god! _Maka!_ I can't believe it's really you!" Liz squeals, as Maka drags a reluctant Soul to the nearby seats that surround Liz. "I can't believe it! I never thought I'd see you again! Oh, my God! I missed you_ so much!_" She hugs her again, both girls quickly delving into a conversation of what the other has missed during the others absence.

It goes just as Soul envisioned it'd go. He's sliding into the background, forced to pay attention to their airy conversation. Something only women were talented in doing, he sagely tells himself. He has the urge to place his headphones over his ears but he knows that if he does that, he'll get it later for being rude. Next time, Soul silently tells himself, he'll be two feet away from Maka so she doesn't have enough time to grab him and force him into this...

"So, are you two dating now or something?" Liz asks after the pleasantries.

"What? No!" Maka laughs, shaking her head furiously. "No, we're just friends!"

Soul rolls his eyes down to their hands and clears his throat, trying to tug his hand out of Maka's tight grip.

Liz raises her brows at their linked hands and Maka hastily removes it from his, pulling on a meek smile that Liz clearly sees through. A sly smirk slithers onto the elder Thompson's lips, but she doesn't call her out on it. Instead, she opens their conversation to involve Soul, although he hardly adds his own input because the conversation is so terribly boring that he can't stand it. He just watches as Liz sneakily manages to get ahold of Maka's cellphone number. He pities Maka: Liz will have a field day interrogating her, he's sure.

"Well, this is my stop!" Liz announces, as the train decelerates.

"Thank God." Soul says, earning himself an amused look from Liz. He shrugs. "You talk too much."

"Shut up, Soul." Maka scowls but he just grunts.

"_Anyway!_" Liz rolls her eyes at him before turning back to Maka. "I'll call you, okay, Maka? Patty misses you so much – I can't wait to tell her that I saw you today! Later, Soul, it was nice meeting you again, too." Liz grins at him, a grin that says a lot but he merely waves and drawls his own goodbye.

"_Finally_," Soul sighs, sinking back into his seat. "I forgot how many words Liz can cram into ten seconds..."

"Well, I'm glad I'm in contact with her now! I never thought I'd get to meet Liz again! When she left to Los Angeles with Patty, I was sure I'd never see them again!" Maka happily laughs, swinging her legs as she sits. She reminds him so much of a child that he has to chuckle, listening to her go on about calling Tsubaki the instant she got home.

"You do that, pigtails." Soul teases, standing up as the train slows. At her confused look, because this isn't his usual stop, Soul explains: "Meanwhile, I gotta' go pick up my bike from the shop!"

Her eyes widen with horror. "You mean you actually got it repaired? You told me you wouldn't be using one for _months!_" She accuses and he rubs his neck sheepishly.

"I know... but that was _before_ I got my paycheck this month." At her open-mouthed response, Soul adds: "My manager said my album was selling or something. Point is, it's enough for me to pay for the repairs completely." He takes out a yellow receipt from the inside of his leather jacket, grinning smugly.

"Wait, album?" Maka gawks. "You never told me you had an album out! When did this happen?"

Soul is slow to understand her shock until he remembers he had never told her. "Oh, yeah. I got it out a few months ago, actually. My bad. I forgot to tell you."

"Oh..." Maka whispers, a little disappointed she hadn't been able to listen to it yet. She wants to hear just what type of music Soul plays. Just what he sings about. "Wow, I can't wait to hear it!"

He grins. "And I can finally kiss this shitty train goodbye!"

Her admiration is quickly shattered. The plunge of her stomach, weight in her chest: she doesn't even bother looking happy at the thought of him leaving her alone in an overcrowded train. It's a little infuriating he'd forgotten to tell her such a thing but she has bigger issues to deal with than his forgetfulness, she tells herself.

She'll deal with that later – if there's even _a _later, Maka thinks concernedly.

She's gotten used to having someone to talk to every Thursday night, sitting beside someone every morning she goes to her rigorous college classes. It's almost pitiful how much she hates the idea of riding the train alone again. It makes her stomach knot up just thinking about it. "I guess I won't be seeing you anymore…"

That successfully kills his buzz and before he can come up with a decent reply, the automated doors chime open. She stands and guides him out by his shoulder, prolonging her own goodbye as much as possible.

"Uh, Maka, listen..." He begins, but he has no idea what to say. He hadn't really thought about being unable to accompany her every morning on the train after he got his motorcycle repaired. He didn't work every day but it had become habit to see her off every morning. Now he wouldn't have a decent reason to do so anymore. He'd be leaving her all alone again, he thinks guiltily.

"Bye, Soul!" She waves goodbye at him. "Be careful on the road, okay? I don't want you to die – that wouldn't be cool at all!" She sternly tells him, softening her eyes soon after. The doors shut. He still has nothing to say. "Good luck with your music career!"

"_Wait_ - _!_"

The train departs before she can hear what he has to say.


	11. Chapter 11

**Away From the Sun  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><em>Onze<em>

* * *

><p>Tsubaki was more than delighted when Maka told her of Liz. But her own delight had been dampened by the knowledge that Soul would no longer be keeping her company or warding away anymore strange men while they took the subway to their own destinations. He will be taking his motorcycle to and from the studio; he'll be paving his own path to fame <em>without <em>her.

Maka lays on her bed the next day, staring at her ceiling. He wasn't in the subway that morning, as expected. It was just a little depressing, swaying with the train all lonesome. She tries not to think about it. There's music flowing softly from her alarm clock radio, left on by Tsubaki before she left home. The girly songs that come from the speakers annoy her, not mixing well with her bitter mood, so she reaches over to adjust the station.

She just plays around with the stations for a bit, searching for something to better her mood. And then she hears it – that unmistakable drawl of his voice – and she scrambles to find that station again. She finds it, holding her alarm clock on her lap.

_It's Soul, _Maka thinks, ecstatic. _It has to be him - it sounds just like him! He sounds... _She feels a smile break on her face the longer the song carries on. He sounds amazing. He sounds like he's been doing this all his life – the way his voice removes the silence from her room, piano and guitar meshing wonderfully. It's a soft, calming, song that warms her as if he's really there beside her; had been there all along. She doesn't know if it's because he has an incredible voice or because of the music itself.

She feels disheartened when the song ends and another takes its place, anyway.

She takes note of the station and turns the radio off, glancing at the clock. Kim is coming to the bakery today. Ox told her to come in later because he needed to take an hour to teach Kim the ropes of working the oven while Jackie manned the register. It makes sense he'd want someone he considered a nuisance – but who did her job well – gone so he could have his own time with the girl he adored. It just annoys Maka that Ox doesn't warn her about these things until the last minute.

She pulls on her gray sweater and fixes her pigtails. Considering she had time to get home and relax for a bit, Maka doesn't have to carry around her book bag like she usually does. She just shuts the door behind her and hooks her keys on the waistband of her skirt, making her way to the subway. The weight in her gut returns as she approaches the station and she makes a mental note to download a few of Soul's tracks, likely the only comfort she'll have for a long time.

Although there are many people who also take the train alone, she feels misplaced. She'd grown so used to having Soul _right there_, beside her, that now it's just too weird. She'll have get used to being alone again, she decides, as she disembarks and watches the train go down its usual route like it does every day. That'll be something that'll never change, at least.

"Hi, Maka." Jackie greets when she enters the bakery. The girl straightens up, looking more perked up now that she got to go back into the kitchen. "Ox is still in there with Kim. God, I'll have to be there watching Ox and Kim flirt while I make a _cake_." Jackie groans, Maka giggling.

"You can tell him to get out if he starts to get on your nerves."

"Oh, bet on it." Jackie darkly promises, brightening soon after. "Well, here you go. I'll let you get onto your busy job." She sarcastically says, causing Maka to roll her eyes and head into the back for her apron. It's no surprise she sees Kim smirking as she kneads doe naughtily, Ox staring at her with a slowly slacking jaw and darkening face.

_Just like Kim. _Maka shakes her head, heading back out to stand behind the register. Jackie gives her a pained look before marching bravely into the kitchen, interrupting their moment with a flat comment that makes Ox shout at her and Kim shout at _him_ to stop yelling at her friend:

"Jackie! Get out!"

"No! My shift at the register is over! I have to start baking that cake or else I'll never finish it!"

"OX! Leave Jackie alone!"

"Argh! Kim, to my office!"

"Don't tell me what to _do_, Ox!"

"Can you both just go to the office? I really need to get this cake done by today!"

Needless to say, Maka let her thoughts drift idly while the trio warred in the kitchens. There aren't many customers this evening, but there's more than usual. And every time there's a lull, she lets her thoughts drift back to that song she heard on the radio, and it doesn't fail to bring a small smile to her face.

She wonders what compelled him to write it. She wants to ask him but she's depressed to realize it would be a long time - perhaps even weeks - before she would be able to speak to him again...

That's how the roar of a motorcycle catches her: with a little frown that startles away at the sound. She straightens when the bike parks in the parking lot. She knows it has because she heard it turn off nearby, around the corner. She can only hold her breath, unwilling to admit her hopes to herself just yet, but a bright smile graces her face when she sees someone walk toward the entrance, removing their helmet to reveal a head full of unruly silver hair.

She only knows one person with such startling pale hair, and her smile widens when he enters the bakery.

"Hey, Maka." Soul drawls, helmet tucked under his arms. He's dressed in heavier clothes than usual, likely because he had his motorcycle back. His boots thump heavily on the floor as he approaches her. "Miss me?"

"Not really." She says, laughing at his surprise. She loves making him falter in his cool like this, just like he loves riling her up until she's spitting fire. "I can just turn on my radio and hear you all I want!"

"So that's how it's gonna' be, huh? You finally learned what real music sounds like." Soul chuckles, placing his helmet on the counter. "Boss around?"

"He's in the back trying to get the new cooks number, _again_." Maka rolls her eyes, not at all concerned. Ox will not be coming out of the kitchens for a _long_ time. She still hear him grumbling in there. "He probably hasn't even noticed that I came in today."

"It's a good thing you came in." Soul yawns, cracking his neck as if sore. But she can still spot a ghost of a smile as he says: "'Cause I didn't wanna' go all the way to your house."

"I see how much you care about me," she dryly says, resting her chin in her palm. "What do you want?"

"I actually want a slice of chocolate cake."

She blinks, not expecting that. But she doesn't question it: she just nods and takes his order, placing the slice into a small plastic container and handing it to him. He hands her five dollars absently, devouring the slice of cake in the time it takes her to hand him his change.

"Wha - did you finish it already?"

"I'm hungry." He defends himself. "Give me another one."

"No way! Soul, go eat something!" Maka demands. "You'll spoil your dinner if you keep eating sweets like this!"

"Yes, mother." Soul mocks. "No, seriously, get me another slice."

"I'm being serious, too: go eat something. Look, there's a fast food place around the corner from here. Go buy something there!"

"That nasty place? No, thanks." He wrinkles his nose. "I'd rather eat _this_ than risk eating some nasty burger and praying to the porcelain god all morning tomorrow." He tosses the plastic container she'd placed the slice in back to her and she holds to her chest, frowning at his stubbornness.

"Their burgers aren't nasty. They're really good, actually."

"You, Maka, need to go out more."

"I do not - !"

"Oh, my God! I can't stand it anymore, Maka!" Jackie slams the doors open, storming to her side and successfully cutting off their argument. "I can't concentrate with their stupid flirting-around! Can I hang out here with you?"

"Oh, sure." Maka smiles at her. "I don't mind."

"So, yeah, can _you_ get me a slice of cake?" Soul asks Jackie, who smiles and nods before being stopped by Maka.

"Don't. Soul, I'm serious: go eat something somewhere else. You can't stuff yourself with desserts until you're full!" Maka scolds. He scowls.

"Watch me." He deadpans. He turns back to Jackie. "Cake?"

"SOUL!" Maka snaps, grabbing his helmet and shoving it to his chest. "Go eat something elsewhere. I won't tell you again."

"Neither will I." He growls, shoving his helmet back at her. "Get me another slice of cake."

Jackie looks between them critically. She narrows her eyes and observes their interaction when Maka pinks from rage and yells for him to get the hell out _now_. It doesn't take Jackie long to note the reluctance in Soul, the unnatural jittery movements from Maka as she shoves his helmet back at him and he shoves it back to her like some game. After a moment of thought, Jackie says: "How about you _both_ go get something to eat?"

"Sounds good to me," Soul agrees instantly.

"Huh? What're you saying, Jackie, it's only _this_ idiot here who needs to eat!" Maka exclaims, furious. "I have to stay here with you!"

"No, you don't. Ox doesn't even know you're in. He doesn't care, really. All he cares about right now is _Kim_, and if he does makes a big deal out of it, I can always tell Kim and she'll help you out." Jackie grins at Maka's falter, her inability to come up with something good. Soul smirks, tucking his helmet under his arm again. This is all Jackie needs to see to know that the only reason this Soul guy didn't want to eat something elsewhere was because of Maka.

"But..."

"Just go, Maka. I'll take your shift for today. Kim isn't going anywhere anytime soon," she adds, wearily. At Maka's reluctant look, Jackie pleads: "Just for today! I don't think I can stomach another two minutes in there!"

"Oh, okay." Maka sighs, defeated.

"I'll wait for you outside." Soul speaks up, turning heel before Maka could protest. The bells jingle as he leaves, presumably heading to where he last parked his bike, and Maka presses her lips together disapprovingly. She'd really rather him in a car than a bike - can't cars be cool, too? She wonders, Jackie interrupting her thoughts:

"Why can't I find a guy like you two?" She sighs, forlorn.

Maka just gives her a strange look, folding up her apron. "What're you talking about, Jackie? What about Harvar?"

"He's a friend," she mumbles.

"Well... _I_ don't have a guy, either."

"What about _that_ guy?" She gestures out the door Soul had walked out of with a finger.

"Who? Soul? Oh, no! He's just my friend." Maka laughs awkwardly and ducks into the back to store her apron.

Jackie turns back to the front, catching a glimpse of Soul. He's brought the bike up front, his hands going through his hair as if fixing it. This thought is later confirmed when she catches him looking into one of the side mirrors, flicking away a piece of unruly white hair from his eyes and sitting back; taking a breath as if preparing himself for something. Jackie can think of who he needs to prepare for, as Maka comes back from the kitchen and bids her goodbye with a happy smile.

Jackie just shakes her head, exasperated with all these blooming couples around her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Away From the Sun  
>by. <strong>_Poisoned Scarlett_

* * *

><p><em>Douze<em>

* * *

><p>She likes these streetlights because they take long to change: that means she can say more, stay with him a little longer. Because every time he pauses on a red light, the bike vibrating beneath her with a purr, he says something and she continues it or vice versa.<p>

Although she had been reluctant to get on the motorcycle after she'd come out of the bakery earlier that day, he promised he wouldn't allow anything to happen to her. He even gave her his helmet although she felt like she was robbing him of something important because anything could happen on the streets. But he wouldn't take it back even if she forced him and she couldn't deny she felt a lot safer wearing it.

"Can you pay attention to the light, Soul? Do you want to get honked at for being slow again?" Maka sighs, but he just snorts.

"They can go around. I'll do what I want."

"You're such a—AH!" Maka squeaks when she feels she's slipping sideways off the bike, immediately clutching onto him. That was far too close, she thinks wearily, glancing down at the asphalt. The tip of her foot barely touches the floor. She decided she'll just hold onto Soul for now...

"Holy shit – Maka? You alright?" Soul asks, looking over his shoulder. But it's a little hard, with her clinging onto him and all. She's not nearly tall enough to balance herself on the floor using her feet, so she just growls promises of hurt and pain in his ear if he says _one word_ while he bursts out laughing, successfully sealing those promises.

"You're the only person I know who can't even sit on a _bike_ right!" Soul cackles the next time they stop, Maka's arms around his waist to anchor herself still. "You're not even _doing_ anything – how did you manage to nearly fall off?"

"I lost my footing, okay? It could have happened to anyone!" Maka insists, flushing when he mutters the contrary. "Ugh, this is the last time I get on this thing… it's nothing but trouble! You should really invest in a car, Soul!" Maka grumbles, and he pushes forward on the green light with a shake of his head. She holds onto his shoulders this time, watching the empty and dark streets illuminated by streetlights; pools of golden coloring the cement something brighter.

"Who needs a car when you have a cool bike?" Soul counters, coming to a stop before her apartment building. He leans back, surprising her when he bumps against her chest and rests his head on her shoulder. "Cars are boring."

"But they can hold more people." Maka points out, her hands hesitantly holding onto his waist for balance. She can feel his hair brush her cheek, soft and unruly as always. She wonders just how he can stand having such rebellious hair and then thinks it rather suits him, being rebellious in nature anyway. "A motorcycle is inconvenient in many ways. A car would be a better alternative."

"Whoa, whoa." Soul holds a hand up lazily. "Take it easy, Maka. This isn't an essay." He snickers. She leans back with a frown and watches him nearly lose balance on the bike, arms flaying in a desperate attempt to keep them from tipping over completely. She presses against his back before he can sit straight after leveling the bike, silently giving him permission to lean against her like before. And he doesn't waste the opportunity, his fingers lightly resting on the handlebars of his motorcycle while she grows bold and wraps her arms completely around his waist.

"That was unnecessary."

"So was the essay comment."

"No, that was _very_ necessary."

Maka rolls her eyes. She thinks back to Jackie and her comment, the disbelief in her eyes when she said they were just friends. If Jackie had caught on so quickly perhaps she wasn't as stealthy as she hoped to be. Perhaps she was as transparent as Liz had told her she was over the phone. But if she was as transparent as Liz said she was, then didn't that mean that Soul likely had an idea that she, _kindasortamaybe_, liked him a little more than friends should?

She buries her nose in his shoulder blade to hide her embarrassment.

It's late and they're just taking up space outside her apartment building, the soft purr of his motorcycle silenced when he finally turns it off. Now they're just left with a comfortable silence she doesn't plan on breaking anytime soon. After a few seconds, she moves to rests her cheek against the nape of his neck, unwilling to part ways with him yet. She will _soon_, Maka tells herself as if she would forget if she didn't.

"You got school tomorrow?" Soul asks.

"Yes," she says, deciding she really does like the smell of leather and body wash that comes off him. She closes her eyes for a moment as he speaks:

"Do you _have _to go?"

"Well, yes, I've never missed a class before." Maka frowns, befuddled he'd even asked. There was always the option of not going, and she didn't have very important classes tomorrow, but that didn't mean she'd ditch them. "Why?"

"Do you _always _have classes during the week?" Soul ignores her last question, voice edging on a whine. "Even _my_ class schedule wasn't that packed!"

"That's you, Soul. _I_ want to graduate early." Maka mutters stubbornly, fingers playing with the zipper of his jacket in a fidget. "So I have to take all of those classes. Professor Stein convinced me to take all of them so I could graduate early like him and my mom. It's a lot of work but I can take it," she adds, confidently. "Why?"

"Don't you have a day off, Maka?" Soul asks, exasperated.

She blinks. "Yeah, the weekend. I only go in for work at two on Saturday..."

"Good." He says, with finality. He leans forward, Maka frowning when she's torn away from his warmth. This has to be the only time she's felt comfortable on his motorcycle and it was because it was off and she was resting on his back, trusting he wouldn't let the bike fall sideways. "Wanna' go watch a movie on Sunday?"

She stares at the back of his head for a few seconds, digesting his words. The question would have been otherwise innocent if it hadn't been for the fact that his fingers are linking with hers on his hip; a taste of his warmth she can't pass up. She smiles brightly as she says: "Okay. But you're going to have to come all the way over _here_ because I'm not coming to you, Soul."

She can hear the smirk in his words: "No problem. I'll pick you up at ten."

"Okay."

And that, she supposes, is how she became Soul Evans girlfriend and subsequently became plastered on the front of a magazine cover.

Not that she knew that until Liz squealed about it on the phone two weeks later...

But still, Soul was content with his life until she rolled up that magazine and proceeded to smack him with it for not saying anything.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **And this is the end! Now, I have the option of continuing this in a sequel but I'm not sure if I'm up for that. After all, I have no idea what it would be about, although that's never been a problem before... I say: keep your eyes peeled, I may surprise you and post up a sequel :P

_Scarlett_


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